there's a thorn beneath my tongue, it bares your name
al-qalile hawalit, at least i tried
“My Lord, expand for me my breast [with assurance] and ease for me my task and untie the knot from my tongue that they may understand my speech.”
- Surah Taha 25-28
pre thoughts:
guys this week i have learned a little about sufism, don’t fight me for not having extensive knowledge on this topic, inshaAllah i will get more. but i keep thinking about isolation, if i am an extrovert or an introvert, and about my name. one thing i was not aware of until recently was about sufi warriors, and my name actually means to rule with a spear, i feel a post marinating about that somewhere. so it led to a train of different thoughts on isolation, spiritualism and reflection.. none which probably flow but here goes…
the thoughts:
what do you do if you didn’t know religion in your formative years. people call me ‘lucky’ because my sins were wiped away but what if i knew so little i was sinning still. runaway? what if i wanted to figure life out, but now i also have religion to figure out. religious guilt? what if i told you i didn’t know the steps of raising a child. poor candidate? what if i told you i didn’t know what a religious ceremony truly meant? stupid? or is it enough that i am just simply finding my way too? acceptance. would you accept me for a less glamourised version of a sinless child or am i only of use painted in the shade of gold embers, to glimmer on the shelves of your gaze. if my strokes are to reflect the pattern of your inner minds, do i became better than, or worse. would you love me if i told you i had been here before. or would you love me if you knew i was weak once, would you doubt my confidence now. would you look at me the same. there are too many would you’s in my train of thought, and that’s how i know i am still part of the problem. this inner critic, who tries to please others, if i am to let it, will still remain as part of my test. looking inwards. what makes a heart love the art of another more than our own.
somebody please for the love of something take me by my hand and whisper answered dua’s in my ear. for i crave to be yearned beyond the the surface of who i am. but that too. i desire to be somebody’s muse, whose gaze forgets others when the sky is full of stars lingering besides the moon. to be somebody’s yearning, where their heart is consumed by thoughts of us. give me the best parts of you, and let me give you my worst. give me the worst parts of you, and let me give you my best. let’s dance this dance together. you have rhythm right?
poetic thoughts, the prelude:
thorned tongue of honey
there is a thorn beneath my tongue,
it bares your namea single drop, my tear enters the water
it bares your name
bite, ouch, a cut forms
on pink flesh and bonesthe wound in my mouth
still bares your name
salted tears mixed with Gods own water,
burning feelings linger, it carries your name
mummify me, wait a hundred years,
excavate me, clear the sands of timei promise you, the remnants remain
even in dust, there’s shades of your name
scars preserved signify your touch
each one writes your name
for it was written, and so, i suppose
your name, is the bitter taste that remains
jerilee xo
short-film thoughts:
again my mind can’t think about anything without imagining a short-film, so here’s another abstract thought on the tangent of reflection and isolation from the poem above…
the dunya is not made for me this dunya was not made for me i know it's a tool for what is made for me what is made for me i won't let the scars you carved befall me they crush me new job? your voice carving scars new memories your voice carving scars new hobby your actions carved scars only graphs can grasp you need to see through me by machines to see the pain down down down down down down down u p i said up microneedling the pain away my favourite silk beautifying the marks stealing the shimmer away from the scars up twirl in your favourite dress come on my love, i said twirl in your favourite dress down different down, this down matters more than the last of the qalb, of the qalb head to the ground this dunya was not made for me but i twirl in my dress and i put my head to the ground i almost forgot this is what its all about this dunya was not made for me the eternal abode, however, that is made for me head down, the eternal abode is awaiting me
the credits
my birthday dua this year is for forgiveness, for my mother to be guided, for the people of palestine to be free from their oppressors, for Allah (swt) to guide me in being beautiful inside and out. and to always be called back to Him. ameen
byeeeee, for now
:D
p.s. just putting this little coffee button here, sorry (kind of) thank you everyone who supports me in any way, may Allah (swt) reward you
Why I'm reading this beautiful piece so late!!!
It is written so beautifully sister
Allahumma barik!! Beautifully written by a beautiful person. Happy belated birthday!! 💜